Independence
by Believe4Ever
Summary: "Consider me independent." England and America recount the Revolutionary War.
1. England

**I wanted to thank my betas Roni2172 and fenfeiikou. Thanks guys!** **Enjoy some Revolutionary War stories.**

* * *

><p>He was such a little child when I met him. He was just starting out and he didn't know what he was doing. He waddled around, lost and confused. I was never quite sure where he came from, since he kind of just appeared one day, but I never really cared. The point was that I found him and I could help him. It was cute, just how helpless he was. I guided him home with me and resolved that I'd raise him so he wouldn't be lost like that.<p>

I was the best to him. I still remember those evening walks through the fields; he'd call out my name as he ran up to me, tripping over his own feet and scraping his knee on the ground. I'd have to soothe his crying and patch him up. He wasn't graceful at all back then. Looking back on it, I guess that was just another change waiting to happen.

When he started to grow, I taught him what I knew. I elucidated how the world worked and what he had to do to get by. I explained to him the rules that society had set up for people like us.

"What if I don't wanna live by rules?" he asked.

It was charming, seeing him ask such a childish question. He never believed that the same rules should apply to him. To him, he could make his own rules and change everything that we've chosen as acceptable. I usually ignored the question and just insisted that he follow the rules.

When he grew older, he began to rebel. When I'd tell him to do something, he'd complain and refuse. Why couldn't he just do what I told him? After all, I was the one that was raising him. If I couldn't teach him how to act, then he was never going to get along with anyone else. He still fought me on everything. I'd ask one thing, he'd say I was being unfair. I wasn't. He was the one being unfair. Why couldn't he just understand that?

Independence. It's a word that never came up much in our household because we'd always had each other. I suppose that might have been a fault of mine. He never truly learned how to live on his own so when he realized he could, that's all that he wanted.

The words he screamed at me the day he left still echo in my mind every once in a while. It's stupid how three words can hurt you so much. It's just three words; they shouldn't have that much power.

"I hate you." How can a four letter word completely change who you are? It only took hearing those words and watching as he stormed away to break me.

I couldn't have that. I couldn't let the person I'd spent the last several years with just leave. I refused to let that happen! Even if it meant following him to whatever damned place he ran to, I would bring him back. I would make him understand that this isn't the way to get by.

There was a part of me that, naively, believed he wouldn't survive without me. I knew he had too much pride to come back to me on his own, so if I had to make him come back, then so be it. If I had to be the bad guy, then so be it. I would do it, if only to make sure he was safe.

It didn't exactly work out like that.

He fought against me harder than I'd ever seen before. There was a new fire ignited inside of him, one of which I'd never seen burn so brightly. With every step I took toward him, he took two more away from me. He was so different, suddenly. He wasn't the careless, lost child that I'd found way back when. For once, he was supporting himself and he wanted nothing to do with me.

I still persevered. How could I not? I had to bring him home and make him understand how foolish he was being. It became more than just an argument and a runaway kid. Soon things became violent and dark.

It just grew in proportion. It became less and less about why he wanted to leave. Soon it wasn't even about the rules anymore; he just wanted to be free from me. He didn't want to have to see me every day or listen to what I say or think about how I'm right. I had the experience to know that he was being an idiot but he refused to listen.

I remember wondering some nights, while still dressed for war, why I was trying so hard. I wondered if he questioned as well. Sometimes I didn't want to fight anymore. I only wanted him to give up and come back because he was probably as sick of this as I was, right? But every time I saw him, there was never a hesitation in his commands, never a sight of unease in his eyes. He was as enigmatic as I could have hoped when I was raising him. He'd become a leader and someone that everyone could look up to. He was a brand new person, and I didn't know if I liked it or not.

Was I not worth it to him? Was his measly 'independence' really better than the person who he grew up with? Did he _hate_ me so badly that he wished to never see my face again? The thought left a bitter taste in my mouth.

Everything was lost on that final day. It was a short confrontation and any backup I managed to scrounge up had abandoned me. He, meanwhile, still had everyone standing behind him. He was still the courageous leader who was going to win this raging war.

Rage boiled inside of me. I couldn't stand fighting him anymore. I couldn't stand seeing him be someone that I'd never met. He was someone entirely new; someone who I'd never had the pleasure of meeting. I had to grow up with the brat who tripped over his own goddamn feet! I had to listen to a teenager's whines and moans about not wanting to do what I told him! I had to endure rebellions and temper tantrums and words of hate being thrown at me so quickly that I was blind to see when the next attack was coming! I had to go through all of this while he just decided to become a distinguished person out of nowhere as though that's who he had always been!

"Tell me you don't mean it!"

I was so pathetic. All I did was scream at him. I wasn't even demanding anything from him anymore, I was simply begging. I couldn't keep my cool after so long. Seeing him at that moment, staring down at me with such cold and loathing eyes…I couldn't take it.

"Tell me and I can take you home!"

He knew that I couldn't do anything anymore. I'd lost any power I thought I once had. No longer was I the great guardian he'd come to know. No…I wasn't anyone by that point. I was nothing more than a man begging on my knees for something that would never happen.

It ended after that. He moved on and left, made a life for himself somewhere far away from me. I had to go back to the empty house that we'd both grown in. I eventually moved on as well, but not for a long while after that. He had the means to ignore everything that'd transpired, but I couldn't. Everything around me spoke of him. I had to store it all away. Destroy it all, erase it from my mind, I didn't care. I just didn't want to remember that battle that I'd endured for nothing. In the end, I suppose he was happy that he got what he wanted.

His independence from me.


	2. America

**I once again wanted to thank my betas Roni2172 and fenfeiikou. Thanks for helping guys! And thank you to those of you that reviewed this story; it means a lot!** **Enjoy America's POV of the Revolutionary War.**

When I was little, I loved watching birds in the sky. The way they soared and circled, without a care in the world. They could go where they want, do what they want, and not have to listen to anyone else.

"Those are eagles," he told me. "They're the freest animal in the world. No one can catch one."

It was from that point onward that eagles became my favorite animal. I would often search the skies, hoping to catch even a glimpse of one. I would see one every once in a while, and it was always going in a new direction, looking for a place different from where it came from. I didn't know if it was the same one, but I liked to imagine it was.

As I grew older, he taught me many things that I didn't quite understand. He told me to always mind my own business, and not question what he was doing. Whenever I found something for myself, he told me to bring it to him. He almost always took it. Did he not realize how unfair this was to me? How he was taxing me on everything that I did? No…I couldn't let him do that. I couldn't just sit back and let him continue patronizing me.

I was in a cage. He couldn't see it because he was the one holding the key. He'd convinced himself that he wasn't entrapping me, that he wasn't forcing me to stay with him every second of every day. It was reverse Stockholm syndrome, really. He'd grown to love his captive too much to realize he was being the bad guy.

With every passing year, the cage grew smaller as his 'disciplines' and 'rules' grew larger. I could no longer move for every regulation he enforced strangled me. I wasn't even a person anymore; I was merely a puppet for him move around and play with, just a limp body with no soul.

It was one faithful day when I caught an eagle that I came to an abrupt realization. I'm not even sure how I did it. I was just running far away from him, acting like I was just playing around, but I wanted to get away for just a little while. I'd gotten far enough away that I couldn't hear his shouts anymore, and that's when I spotted it: the eagle.

It was just sitting on a low hanging branch, minding its own business. I was so overcome by the beauty of seeing it up close that I desired to have it. I just wanted to have control over such a creature for one moment. Even as I crept closer, I knew that it would be impossible for eagles weren't animals that could be caught.

But…I did catch it. It didn't struggle as much as I thought it would, as though it acknowledged that I meant it no harm. But I had it. This bird that was supposed to be so free, so unattainable, had been captured so easily. If something as liberated as this bird could be captured but still deserve its freedom, then didn't I as well? It was then that I understood…

I wanted to be free. I wanted to be able to make my own decisions. I didn't want him telling me what to do all the time. I'd tried; I'd tried so hard to work with him. Every time I asked if I could do one thing on my own, he treated me like a child. But I'd grown up and I didn't need him to look after me anymore!

So I broke off. I decided I was no longer going to live under his stupid rules. If his rules meant treating me like an idiot, and taking the things I worked for, then I was not going to have it. I decided I would run away. I would be self-governed. No longer would I be trapped under his rule, instead, I would be my own person. No longer would I be the eagle trapped in his forceful grip; I would be the eagle soaring above his head, off to a new future.

I was going to spread my wings and fly far, far away.

I didn't know why he was so obsessed. He wouldn't let me go without a fight. He followed me to no end, but I would not have it. I was going to be my own person; I was going to be independent for once! If that meant I would have to fight the person who raised me, who entrapped me, then fine. I would.

I hated him. I absolute loathed him for secluding me. How could he treat me like a caged animal? I'm a person and I need to be free once in a while. I need to learn to stretch my legs and figure things out on my own, but he couldn't understand that. To him, I had to stay and be the same timid, ignorant child that I was when he found me; the one who watched the eagles and still believed they could never be caught.

No. I refused. I couldn't go back to the cage. Instead, I reformed myself and taught myself my own rules to become my own person. I gained a personality. With his shadow no longer hanging over me, I could make a place for myself. I gained confidence and could talk to people without being afraid I'd say something wrong.

When he followed me and insisted on fighting, I complied. I had something new to fight for. It wasn't even about the eagles or the rules or anything. It was that I had gotten a taste of freedom and it tasted sweeter than anything I'd ever had in my life. I could feel it flowing through me, combining with my blood and transforming me into something beautiful. I didn't need him and I never would.

Our fighting grew to be more than just a fight between brothers. We both found reinforcements to fight for our own causes. It grew tiring but I knew that I couldn't give up. I couldn't give him even an inkling of suspicion that I was slowing down. Every time I saw him I was sure to give it my all and prove to him that I was entirely serious about this. He wasn't going to bully me into his rule any longer.

The last day I saw him on the battlefield is a memory that burns freshly in my mind. Never before had I seen him so…broken. That's the only word to describe it. He was on the ground, screaming and sobbing. He was begging me.

"Just tell me that you don't mean it and I'll take you home!"

This was the man that had taken my freedom in the first place? This pathetic excuse for a person groveling in the mud before me? Why was he not still fighting? Why was he not faking his way through the turmoil both of us were feeling after so much violence? Why was he begging for my return rather than demanding for it? How could this worm screaming at me really have held the key to the cage that'd shut me in for so long?

"I remember when…you used to be so great."

The stupidity before me…No, I would not admit that I didn't mean it. I'd admit that he was wrong when raising me. I'd admit that it was his fault that it had to come to this. I'd admit that if he'd just given me a little breathing room and let me flap my wings for just a little while then we would be going home together. But I would never say I was wrong with what I did.

I left after that. He returned back to the home we once shared and I forged my own path. I created something new, something the world could appreciate. I had something to myself, now, something that he could never take away, even if he wanted it.

Freedom had never tasted so good.


End file.
